Winter War
by Lightningscar
Summary: AU. The Boltons are defeated, and Rickon was saved. But the peace of the Winterfell didn't last long. The Enemy marches on the Wall, but before he can be fought, there is a new threat: Daenerys Targaryen. And she has brought her entire strength. But if she thinks the North will be taken easily, she has another thing coming. It's might vs magic. It's Winter War. Oneshot


**I can't claim to own Game of Thrones. If I did, some things would definitely have gone differently. Sadly, I don't own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. This is in no way written to be my version of Game of Thrones seasons 7+8, and characters might be very OOC. This is written just for fun and to try getting me back into the mood for writing**

Winter had definitely come. The winds had gotten colder and a thick layer of frost and snow covered the landscapes from the Wall to the Neck. And soon, he imagined, the snows would reach the Iron Islands, the Vale, the Riverlands and Westerlands, before taking hold of the Reach, the Crownlands and the Stormlands. He doubted the natural winter would ever the warmth of the southern parts of the Reach and the deserts of Dorne. The unnatural one, the one brought by the enemy, however, was different case entirely.

That was why he was here… to convince the high lords and ladies of Westeros to put aside their petty disputes, even if he and his family had a serious axe to grind with some of them, and unite against their common foe.

He let out a sigh. 'Putting aside their differences, if only temporarily… I'm asking for a miracle then. And now this invasion… I would have better luck turning the salt water of the oceans into the fresh water of the streams… a miracle indeed.'

As if hearing his thoughts, one of his companions, the young boy with the auburn hair and heavy fur cloak wrapped around his thin frame, leaned closer to him, sitting in his chair between the two massive snow and frost covered hills. "Brother, what's wrong?"

He sighed, glancing up at his brother. "I'm scared, that is what wrong… scared that this meeting will come to violence, as meetings between high lords and ladies tend to do. We are definitely outnumbered."

His brother looked at him for a long moment, before giving a thin smile. "You, afraid? After everything you have seen, you are scared?" Glancing over at their fellow companions, one man and two women, sitting right behind them on their horses, and Moat Cailin further back, his voice lowered to a whisper. "With your power… brother, you saved me during that battle." A small tear started forming in his eyes and he hugged himself, rubbing his arms as if cold. "Brother, why did you bring me here? I'm only a liability, a weakness. You can't afford a weakness…"

"Rickon, enough. You are not a weakness." His voice and gaze softened as he looked at his brother, before glancing back at their other companions, seeing their despondent gazes, weighed down by the same guilt he was feeling. Taking a gentle hold on his brother's arm, he tugged him down into a small embrace. "I once swore I would protect you… and I failed at that. You almost died because I let you out of my sight… I'm not about to make the same mistake twice." Releasing Rickon from his hold, he turned his gaze south. "Here they come… Rickon, whatever happens, stay beside me and don't move."

Nodding weakly, wiping the tear from his face, Rickon Stark stood back up and followed his older brother's gaze. As his brother said, people were closing in on them.

In the front rode a young woman with silvery hair flowing down her back, and Rickon just knew that this had to be Daenerys Targaryen. Coming up right behind was s short man that Rickon hadn't seen in years, and although the beard made it hard for the young Stark to recognize him, he recognized Tyrion Lannister fairly well. He also recognized the next man, riding behind a woman with auburn hair, and it was only his brother's fast reflexes and steely grip on his left arm that stopped him charging Theon Greyjoy. Hearing the whispers behind him, he turned his head to look at his sister, Sansa, having a heated conversation with their oldest brother, Jon. Jon seemed to be of the same mind as Rickon, to charge Theon and remove his head while Sansa seemed to try to calm him. Their last companion, Meera Reed, kept her gaze focused on his brother sitting in the chair, fingering her spear as more and more people fanned out between Daenerys, spears and shields in position as six more women and two men, the first man handing over his spear, sword and shield to another soldier, made their way towards Daenerys, who had dismounted alongside Tyrion, Theon and who Rickon guessed to be Theon's sister, and were now waiting for the others to catch up to them.

Seeing this entourage approach made Rickon very uncomfortable and he started fidgeting on his feet, leaning closer to his brother. "Bran," he whispered, fear seeping into his voice. "Who are all those people? I recognize the Imp and Theon well enough, and I can guess who Daenerys is and who is most likely Theon's sister… but who are the rest?"

Bran Stark, the new Three-Eyed-Raven, frowned at the approaching entourage, his distaste seeping into his voice as he whispered his reply. "The old woman is Olenna Tyrell, high lady of the Reach. Behind her is the current ruler of Dorne, Ellaria Sand and the Sand Snakes, bastard daughters of the late Oberyn Martell." His frown deepened further. "And if I'm not mistaken, the big man is Jorah Mormont… he fled Father's judgement many years ago." Bran's eyes narrowed and his voice got an edge to it. "Rickon… get behind me. Or better yet, go to Jon and Sansa. I sense this might escalate quickly. And whatever happens, none of you are to move forward."

The youngest Stark startled, giving his older brother a fearful look. He remembered all too well their exchange of who had to protect whom before parting ways. In the end, Bran had been the one protecting him. Rickon would never forget it. The fear as he ran from the Bolton bastard after having lost Shaggydog and Osha. He had heard the arrows behind him hit the ground as ran, desperate to be held by Jon again, to be taken to safety. He had known he would die before reaching Jon. He had felt it in his heart, the fear taking over when the bastard had fired his final arrow, anticipating its piercing pain. But it never came. Instead, a screech from a raven had sounded behind him, followed by the thumb of something heavier than an arrow hitting the ground. And despite all survival instincts, Rickon had stopped and look behind him. There, on the ground where he had stood just moments before, was a raven pierced by an arrow that would have hit Rickon. Then, he was snatched up by Jon, and his older brother had almost ridden the horse to escape the following rain of arrows. But not a single arrow came close to them. Dozens of ravens and crows descended, blocking the rain of arrows, with several birds dropping to the ground.

It had only been then, as he was brought safely back behind his brother's lines, that Rickon noticed the darkened sky. And not the dark of darkness caused by rain, snow or night. No, it was birds darkening the skies. Thousands upon thousands of crows and ravens were in the sky, blocking out whatever sun managed to sneak past the grey skies.

Rickon would forever have nightmares about that day. But at the end, the Bolton Bastard was dead, alongside Smalljon Umber and thousands of men. Rickon didn't remember much of the following events. He did learn, however, that when Jon, the wildling Tormund a others stormed Winterfell, the raven and crows once again descended, flying in the way of Ramsay's arrow that surely would have killed the giant Wun Wun.

The time afterwards had been tense, to say the least. Jon had been proclaimed Warden of the North, while Sansa would be Queen Regent until Rickon came of age. Some guy named Littlefinger had tried approaching Rickon a few times, but Sansa and Jon had chased him away. And then, to make things even more complicated, Bran returned with Meera and eyes burdened by hardship, knowledge and, what frightened Rickon, power that was out of this world. But his fear had vanished when Bran had given a tired smile and said that he was glad to see him safe again, as he hadn't been sure his birds would arrive fast enough. Let's just say that after that piece of information, Rickon stopped doubting Bran.

So when Bran told him to either get behind him or run back to Jon and Sansa, he did just that. Looking back over his shoulder as he ran, he saw Bran staring down the approaching envoy before his gaze snapped upwards, apparently seeing something in sky that that Rickon could not, and instantly the temperature around him seemed to drop and the ground to vibrate, but then Bran started singing, though Rickon had no idea what he was singing about as he didn't understand the words at all, and as Bran finished singing, the temperature seemed to rise again and the ground stopped shaking.

Reaching Jon, he gave a tentative smile as Jon wordlessly hefted him up on his horse. "Bran says we aren't to move forward. He says that thing might escalate."

Jon frowned, staring at his black-haired brother's back. "I don't like it. Ever since Bran returned… he has been distant."

Rickon nodded. "I know… but I trust Bran knows what he is doing."

Sansa looked sceptical as she stared between her brothers. "I hope you are right, Rickon… but if things come to worse… Jon, we have to be ready."

Jon nodded but didn't say a word as he observed the so-called Dragon Queen and her entourage reach his little brother. A meeting that might determine the fate of the Seven Kingdoms and the fate of mankind was about to begin.

1111

Daenerys Targaryen had imagined many things about the North, but to find her way blocked by a young boy sitting in a chair regarding her and her company with brown, almost black eyes, had not been one of them. News of the Bolton's defeat had reached them while still on sea, to mixed feelings of her Small Council. Theon had seemed delighted at the news, Yara slightly angry, Tyrion disbelieving and Varys surprised. At any case, they had decided it would be best to head for the North first, making landfall just south of the Neck where they, surprisingly, had been joined by Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand and the Sand Snakes and, to Dany's great delight, Ser Jorah.

Messages had been sent to Winterfell, asking for a meeting between her, the rightful Queen, and the high lord and lady of Winterfell. They had received a missive stating to meet the Three-Eyed-Raven at the threshold of the North. Frowning at the title, also because none of her advisors had heard of it before, she had accepted, curious despite herself what this Three-Eyed-Raven was for a ruler and how he had earned his nickname. Let's just say that he wasn't what she expected.

A young man, probably seventeen years old with black hair and brown eyes, was sitting between two hills, staring them down with four people behind him, all young, and a ruin of a fortress looming on a hill behind them all. Exchanging confused looks with her companions, she approached the boy, shivering slightly from the cold as she came to a stop, Missandei walking forwards to announce her.

"You are in the presence of Queen Daenerys Targaryen of House Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of…"

"I know who she is." The boy cut in calmly. "And I know why she has come. As for her titles… I don't have time for titles." His eyes drifted from Missandei to Dany. "Some people call me Prince, but I am the Three-Eyed-Raven, Brandon Stark." His gaze turned to Tyrion. "And before you ask for proof, Lord Tyrion, I will tell you: When I said I was not a cripple, you said, rather sarcastically I might add, that then you were not a dwarf and that your father would rejoice to hear it."

Dany gazed at Tyrion, surprised that he would know this Brandon Stark. Surprise and astonishment was written all over her Hand's face as he gave a small nod, indicating that the boy was speaking the truth. Turning her gaze to the boy who was observing them calmly, though his eyes occasionally would linger on the Greyjoys and the Sand Snakes, as if expecting an attack. Giving them a glance herself, she walked forward, noticing how the temperature seemed to drop with each step she took, while her entourage moved forward behind her.

"You are not what I expected, Lord Brandon." She spoke calmly, locking her purple gaze with his brown one. "You say you know why I have come… then I am sure you know what I will ask of you and the North?"

"To bend the knee and swear fealty to you." He sounded almost bored, Dany thought. "Yes, I know."

Daenerys nodded. "That is right. And your answer is?"

Bran looked at her for a moment. Then… "No."

Dany raised a disbelieving eyebrow, ignoring the angry hisses behind her. Many had told her no before, but none like this. Most who defied her either spoke it angrily or mockingly, but Brandon Stark had just told her 'no' like if she had asked if it was raining.

"No?" She asked quietly. "You will stand against me as I claim what is rightfully mine?"

Bran chuckled. "You want that godforsaken piece of slag heap that is the Iron Throne? Then you shall be more than welcome to march south and take it. But trust me when I say that you won't be able to hold it for long without an alliance with the North."

Dany tilted her head before her mouth twitched upwards. "Many have told me I won't be able to hold what I have claimed… and they are all defeated now. What makes you think the Iron Throne will be any different? And what makes you think I won't be able to hold it without an alliance with the North? I have the backing of the Reach, Dorne and soon the Iron Islands and the Westerlands. Conquering a war-torn and exhausted North, if need be, shouldn't be a problem. You are outnumbered, almost depleted for resources… and I have my dragons."

Bran allowed his gaze to wander, before meeting her gaze steadily. "Indeed, you have more or less whipped the Masters into submission. But this is not Slaver's Bay, or Bay of Dragons if you prefer, this is Westeros. As for you having the backing and alliance with these people… I wonder about that. To be honest, I think you have it backwards. They are not backing your claim… you are backing theirs. As for it being an alliance… well, I wonder how much of an alliance it will be after I am done tearing it apart." His brown eyes drifted to Tyrion. "Do you-"

It happened so quickly that Dany didn't register it at first. She saw the outraged looks of the four people behind Brandon Stark, the oldest male drawing his sword while the black-haired girl drew a spear. She registered this in the fraction of second before something whizzed past her head on either side. And then something strange happened. Brandon moved his head to the right, almost lazily, as a spear flew right past where his head had been a second ago before straightening up again, swatting a knife out of the air with his right hand before gripping and yanking away a whip before it could crack in his face.

Blinking in astonishment for a second, especially when Bran simply raised a hand, stopping the people behind him from attacking, Dany whipped around, glaring bloody murder at the Sand Snakes. "You will not do such a thing again." Her voice was calm, but it greatly belied her anger. "Do I make myself clear?" When she saw the three women just staring at the young Stark in utter shock, she found it necessary to repeat herself. "I said: Do I make myself clear?"

Apparently shocked out of their stupor, the Sand Snakes gave stiff nods. "Yes, Your Grace."

Giving them one last glare, she turned back towards Brandon Stark who were observing, evidently very amused, as if having deadly weapons thrown at him during negotiations were something trivial. Glancing at Tyrion, who seemed just as astounded as the Sand Snakes, she turned back to Brandon Stark.

"You said something about tearing my alliance apart. I think my Dornish friends saw that that as a threat."

Bran smiled that strange smile again. "Indeed. They probably fear, and with good reason, that Lord Tyrion will demand his justice for the murder of his niece Myrcella."

Tyrion reacted instantly, his face turning white, then red as he whispered. "What?"

Bran nodded. "It's as you have concluded, Lord Tyrion. The Sand Snakes killed Myrcella… Ellaria Sand gave her a kiss with lips coated with the Long Farewell poison." His eyes turned to Dany, ignoring Tyrion who were now glaring daggers at the Dornish women, hands clenching and unclenching as if he would like nothing better than to strangle the lot of them.

"You keep a lot of royal killers close to you, Lady Daenerys. Aside from Myrcella Baratheon, the Sand Snakes and Ellaria Sand murdered the ruler of Dorne and his heir because they were unhappy with his ruling." His gaze shifted again, landing on the oldest in the assembly. "Lady Olenna, together with Petyr Baelish, poisoned Joffrey." His gaze returned to Dany, who were now staring at the Dornish and the ruler of the Reach in surprise and shock, while Tyrion was looking more and more murderous with each revelation. "That is what I mean by you backing their claims and not them backing yours. Ellaria's Sand hold on Dorne is only valid as long as you back it with your military might. The Greyjoys are heavily outnumbered against their uncle, and Lady Olenna is willing to follow anyone who offers her revenge against Cersei Lannister But from the looks of it, Lord Tyrion now has a very big axe to grind with some of them. And should you make a decision they don't like… well, the Dornish and Lady Olenna have already proved that they aren't afraid of regicide."

Dany levelled her own with a serious gaze, telling them to keep quiet, then addressed Bran. "Those are serious accusations, Lord Brandon. Do you have any proof?"

Bran smiled. "Your spymaster, Varys," Dany was once more shocked at how much this young lord knew about her advisors, "may have his little birds and mice… but so do I. And honestly, mine are much faster." He smiled as if he had just told a funny joke. "As for proof… I don't need it to tear your so-called alliance apart. Now that the seeds of doubt and suspicions have been planted, southern mindset will do the rest."

Dany hated to admit it, but the Stark before her had a point. Already she could feel the rising tensions between her Hand of the Queen and the rulers of Dorne, and while Olenna seemed indifferent, she could that Tyrion was rather upset with the old woman as well. Doing her best to remain calm on the outside, she once more addressed Bran, forcing an edge of steel back into her voice.

"Even so, we still outnumber you. And with my dragons, you stand no chance. Torrhen Stark knew this, and he bent the knee. It would the wisest choice to so again, or I will take back what is rightfully mine with a lot more fire and blood."

Once more, she was perplexed by the younger's reaction, for he simply raised an eyebrow. "What is rightfully yours? What would that be? The Iron Throne?" Feeling the anger rise in her chest, Dany opened her mouth to speak, but Brandon beat her to it. "House Targaryen lost all claims to the Iron Throne the moment they lost Robert's Rebellion."

Daenerys hissed. "The Usurper's War, you mean. The usurper Robert Baratheon started a war to take what he had no right to."

Bran shook his head. "That is not why Robert Baratheon and his allies started the war… him getting the throne was simply the outcome of the war. But it will be pointless discussing it with you, just as the war and about every war ever fought over power have been pointless. The only thing they have caused is pain, death and suffering."

He turned his gaze to the skies. "Many people have the Targaryen rule a golden age because it supposedly brought stability to the Seven Kingdoms, but I disagree. The only thing that changed was that the war among the Houses became more secretive than open. Additionally the during the Targaryen rule, the Seven Kingdoms saw more civil wars than ever before. The Dance of the Dragons and the first Blackfyre Rebellion are perfect examples of the Targaryens plunging the kingdoms into war."

He turned his gaze back to Daenerys for a few seconds, before closing his eyes. "My father made a terrible mistake the day Robert's Rebellion ended. Instead of placing Robert on the Iron Throne, my father should have melted down that worthless pile of slag metal. That chair has cost the lives of thousands upon thousands, just so that one could sit on it for a few years before starting the cycle all over." Bran let out a weary sigh. "Usurper… it's such a strange word. You use it about Robert Baratheon overthrowing your family… but isn't that what Aegon and his sisters did over three hundred years ago? Overthrew the ruling families of the regions of Westeros? And what about those ruling families… how did they become rulers in the first place? By defeating the other families in their region, one by one… just as Aegon the Conqueror did many years later."

Opening his eyes, Bran continued. "When my ancestor, Torrhen Stark, bent the knee, he made the wise choice. He was outnumbered and had heard about Balerion the Black Dread and the other dragons. But our situation is different compared to then."

Dany frowned, a disbelieving smile tugging at her mouth. She was starting to feel that this Three-Eyed-Raven, this Brandon Stark, was just talking to stall her. "I disagree. Our situation is exactly the same as with Torrhen and Aegon. You are outnumbered, just like your ancestor, and I have three dragons, like my ancestor, and you do not."

A small secretive smile spread across Bran's face. "Aye, we are outnumbered. But your army is not used to fighting in the cold, coming from the warmth of central Essos, the Reach and Dorne. The Greyjoys might be suited for battle in the cold… but they are not enough. As for your dragons… well, against me and the North, they are not worth much. Torrhen Stark made the wise decision by bending the knee, for he did not know dragons… not as I do."

Dany's smile grew, discreetly motioning for Grey Worm to alert the troops in case of an ambush. "You know dragons, when they have not been around for hundreds of years? How, did your old maester tell you stories? I'm afraid that a hearing about a dragon is vastly different compared to seeing one in the flesh. Though, the maesters got one thing right about dragons: They are fire made flash."

For a brief moment, pain and sorrow seemed to cross Bran's face and eyes, but the emotions disappeared just as quickly. His voice, however, got an icy edge to it. "My maester told me about dragons, yes. But my knowledge of dragons far exceeds the ones from the Citadel. Call them down from the skies, and I will show you why they are not worth much here in the North."

Dany smiled. Now she knew he was stalling. Well, two could play that game. "My dragons aren't near here. We didn't feel it necessary to face off against your meagre forces."

The ground seemed to shake and rumble for a second, but when Bran held up his hand, an annoyed look on his face. "Please, do not try lying to me. I'm not fooled as easily as I once was. Your dragons are near you… they always are" Then something strange, and slightly scary if you asked Dany, happened. Bran's left eye turned a ghostly grey-white, while his right stayed fixed on her. "They are circling in the sky about five-hundred metres behind you, just above the clouds."

To say that Dany was shocked was an understatement. Not only had Bran just, through some sort of sorcery no doubt, located her dragons in a matter of seconds, but he had done it like it was second nature to him. 'Alright, he wants dragons… I will show him dragons.'

Determined to put this farce to bed here and now, she took a deep breath before calling out loudly in Valyrian. " _Drogon! Rhaegal! Viserion! To me!_ "

For a second everything was silent, but then several loud roars and screeches followed, followed by the sound of heavy wings being moved up and down. Then, her three children broke the clouds above and descended, landing around her. For a moment, they moved their heads towards her, asking to be petted, before they turned towards Bran, whose left eye had returned to normal, snarling and hissing.

Smirking slightly upon seeing Bran's expression, she couldn't help but tease. "So, Lord Brandon. Do you still think you know dragons?"

11111

Bran couldn't deny it. Upon seeing the black, green and cream-coloured dragons up close, he got nervous. Having so many teeth snarling at him was unsettling… especially because he could fire starting to build in their maws. And they were bigger than he initially thought. However, getting over his initial shock, he relaxed when he saw them already moving a little more sluggishly, confirming his theory once and for all. "They are magnificent, Lady Daenerys. But they are not enough… not against the North, or the true enemy."

"You speaking to Queen." The solider who had handed over his weapons to another solider said. "Right address is Your Grace."

Bran smiled. "Pardon me, but no one in Westeros has chosen her as Queen out of loyalty or respect, and she hasn't conquered anything in Westeros. Ergo, she is not a Queen." He turned his gaze towards Dany, his right arm throbbing. Time was running out. It was time to put an end to this. "Your dragons are indeed fire made flesh, Lady Daenerys. But they are magnificent and powerful fire in the flesh, they are also lizards, and as such, they abide by the rules of lizard. They need water, food and warmth. And like a fire, they need three things: Heat, fuel and air. Take away one of those things, and like a lizard or a fire, your dragons will die."

Bran sighed, readying himself. "I have no wish to fight you Lady Daenerys. I would rather have you make an alliance with my brother and help us against the true enemy… who knows, your dragons might be able to tip the scales in our favour. But if you intend to plunge Westeros into another senseless war first, bleeding the South and the North needlessly… I will end your invasion right here, right now. A Targaryen will never sit the Iron Throne again and your dragons will die fighting the Night King and his army."

For a moment, a heavy silence ruled the field. Then, Dany spoke, a murderous rage filling her voice. "You make some big claims, but you don't have anything to back them… and you shall never have the chance. You say you will end my invasion right, right now? You shall never have the chance. The Night King and his army… by the end of my invasion, the Seven Kingdoms will have one Queen, me, a Targaryen. And I can assure you, my dragons will still be alive by the end of it. But you shall not. Time for negotiations is over. Time for accusations and stalling are over. Goodbye, Three-Eyed-Raven, Brandon Stark. You shall die by the dragons you dare insult. _Dracarys._ "

Bran had to hand to Daenerys and her dragons: They were quick. The last syllable had barely passed the Mother of Dragon's lips, before screams sounded from behind and three torrents of flames came barrelling towards him, and he spoke only one word. _"Freeze."_

11111

" _Dracarys_ "

The Breaker of Chains saw the flames leaving the mouths of her children. She saw them race towards the young boy, who raised his right arm, his palm facing the fire, as if to shield himself. She registered this, all in the fraction of a second. But the scream of terror from the young lord, followed by pain as the fire hit and consumed him, never came. Instead, the moment she finished talking, he said a single word, but it was not a language she had ever heard before.

" _Freeze_ "

Instantly, something strange happened. The temperature dropped and ground seemed to shake. The rivers of fire stopped three meters from Brandon, as if stopped by some invisible force, and then, after a few seconds, they simply dispersed. Then the cold came. Dany got a gust of cold air in her face, and she shivered alongside her dragons and those standing closest to her. Wide-eyed, she stared at her dragons, who looked surprised, then back to her entourage. They all looked fine, but just as shocked as she was. No, that wasn't true. Tyrion was staring at some point behind like he was a fish out of water: Eyes looking like they might pop out of their sockets and jaw almost reaching the ground.

"That… that is impossible." Dany agreed, but before she could say anything, her Hand spoke again. "That is impossible… you shouldn't be able to… it's impossible."

Turning back, she was just in time to see what had left Tyrion so dumbfounded and to hear Bran's words as he ever so slowly stood up on his feet. "A lot of things should be impossible, Lord Tyrion. And yet they happen anyways." Then, after looking at them and his siblings and friend, he turned back to them and spoke in that weird language. " _Arise._ "

1111

Sighing, Bran found his point of balance with his feet and started pushing upwards. He was still getting used to having his legs back, but he liked to think that his mobility was improving by leaps and bound with each passing day. He just hoped he would be fast enough in the fights to come. It was a strange miracle indeed… the only question was what price it would come with. Adrenaline stemming for now, but now more than ready for a fight, he spoke without humour as he finally got to his feet and straightened up.

"A lot of things should be impossible, Lord Tyrion. And yet they happen anyways." Looking at Daenerys and her company, somewhat savouring their gobsmacked expression, he looked over his shoulders and gave his family and Meera a reassuring smile, he decided that it was time to stop fooling around and show more of his hand. Turning back towards the Mother of Dragons, he spoke once more in the gentle tongue of the Children of the Forest. " _Arise_ "

11111

" _Arise._ "

Dany and her entourage let out a loud collective gasp alongside Bran's siblings. The reason? Before they had thought the earth was shaking… now they knew for sure that it was. Or rather: It was growling. Then, the hills on either side of Bran Stark started moving and Dany felt herself go paler than her hair as she saw what lay beneath the frost and snow falling from the gargantuan creatures rising, flanking Bran Stark much like her dragons were flanking her. And that was what these creatures were: Dragons. But not dragons like Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal. For starters, they had the same colouring, almost like ice, and their eyes were crystal blue and they each had large translucent wings. And they were bigger… much bigger. Both were, if Dany had to guess, at least four or five times larger than Drogon, with the one on Bran's right being maybe even bigger.

And for the first time in a long time, Dany felt genuine fear with her dragons at her side. Taking a simple step backwards, as her dragons moved closer and in front of to meet this new challenge head-on, Dany felt herself whisper.

"What… what are those?"

Bran Stark raised his hands, causing Dany alongside her company and her dragons to tense up, preparing for an attack. An attack that never came. Instead, the two massive dragons lowered their heads, keeping an eye her and her dragons, gently nudging their muzzles against Bran's hands. Petting them for a few seconds, Bran spoke calmly, but with quite a bit of happiness in his voice.

"They were said to roam the Shivering Sea and the White Waste, and to be made out of living ice… which, I suppose, is somewhat correct." He smiled lovingly at the dragons. "They are Ice Dragons, Lady Daenerys; bigger and older than the dragons of Valyria. But most importantly, they are my friends." Giving the dragons' muzzles a last rub, he moved up the heads, causing both Ice Dragons to turn their heads towards the invaders. "On my right is Azor Ahai. On my left is his mate, Lightbringer. I saved them from the Night King… but they were only two of seven."

His eyes and voice turned sad and bitter. "The Night King doesn't possess real Ice Dragons… just powerful imitations… but they might be enough to conquer the world of men. And he will wreck total destruction on Westeros unless I stop him. And he will make his move soon. I can feel him through our shared link. He marked me… and while it enabled him to find me, it had another unknown side effect… though I am sure it wasn't his intention, him marking me has done that I can now find him as well. And what is more… I can now draw on his power, if only a little, increasing my own."

The last bit was said so quietly that Dany barely heard him. But apparently, Bran didn't care, for he carried on in the same bitter tone. "I gained power, and through that power, I was able to slowly heal myself, recovering the use of my legs. But the cost of that power… it was too high."

His voice and eyes turned cold and even as he crossed his arms, meeting Dany's. "I cannot change the past, no matter how much I wish to. But I can, and will, do everything in my power to defeat the Night King and his army… even if it means destroying the last true bit of Old Valyria."

Taking a quick look at Dany, her dragons, her entourage and where he knew her army to be, Bran tensed up, hoping that it wouldn't come to a fight. But if it did, he would be more than ready. And so would his friends. "So, what will it be, Lady Daenerys? Do you want peace with the North and help against the true enemy? Or shall we be enemies instead, with both of us probably dying for nothing in the long run?"

He was silent, allowing his words to sink "The choice… is yours."

The End

 **Just something I wrote up to get back in the mood for writing fanfic again. Now, to make something perfectly clear in case you didn't get it from the get go in the beginning.**

 **1) This story is in** **NO** **way shape or form my take on season 7 or 8.**

 **2) I don't think Bran will get an Ice Dragon (much less two) but I kinda hope for it. The idea with Bran getting an Ice Dragon started with a GoT/ASOIAF theory called 'Bran the Ice Dragon' (or something like that) and the idea of an Ice Dragon appealed to me.**

 **3) Don't see Bran acting or talking like this. But for me, this wasn't so much about believable character portrayal. To me, it was to get back the mood for writing, to get this idea out of my head and the need for someone to throw monkey wrench in Dany's wheels.**

 **I love her dragons, but damn her character annoys me. One thing is her mindset about her thinking the Iron Throne is hers by right. I can understand that. But holy hell her plot armor annoys me. In season 4 (I think) she couldn't control her dragons and she locked away two of them. Understandably, they weren't happy to see her in season 5. Later in season 5, the last dragon saves her, but later on refuses to let her sit on him. In season 6, larger and bigger dragons obeys her every command… wth? Am I the only one who thinks that makes little sense?**

 **Then there was the scene with the Dothraki horde surrounding her in end of season 5 and then taking her to the Khal in season 6. The Dothraki are the type who do things first, then they may ask questions later. So why in Seven Hells did Dany look complete fine, if only a little dirty when she was taken to Vaes Dothrak (or whatever)? While I can understand them not showing her getting gang-r**** after the outcry when Ramsay r**** Sansa, and am thankful for them not showing it, wouldn't that have been a likely outcome of her capture? Lastly, with the risk of sounding like an utter sexist and chauvinist, but they were at least six big muscular and combat trained men in that tent… and none of them thought about subduing her, which they should be more than capable of.**

 **4) Don't know if Dorne and Olenna have officially sided with Dany… but the season 6 implied it.**

 **5) Bran split his consciousness to find out where the dragons were, by warging into a bird or something. Reason for this is that I think it was somewhat implied in "The Door" (s6e5) when he was in the past but still heard Meera.**

 **6) Can't help but wonder that when the Nigh King marked Bran, he could have created a link similar to the one shared by Voldemort and Harry. In this, the link allowed Bran to tap into the Night King's power, amplifying his own, and he used that energy to slowly regain the use of his legs.**

 **7) As for the names for the Ice Dragons… well, prophecies and myths are very fickle things.**


End file.
